bakerstreet | We deserve this.

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[meme] shipping

We deserve this.

Deserve to be Happy

If we're honest, fictional characters can be generalized into two camps: 1. good people who have crap happen to them or 2. just crappy people. But bad or good, cheery or grouchy, undeserving or no, we sometimes shamelessly want them to have something nice in life. Or, more accurately, someone nice. A certain someone to give them kisses and their favorite foods, to make sure they have a blanket when they fall asleep, and maybe to whisk them away on fun dates/adventures? If they're lucky, this somebody may even give killer back rubs.

But forget your shame, okay? No judgement here. This is just a cute meme for all your gross (shipping) needs, where your character can get all the happiness they deserve...or don't. Whatever!

Comment with your character's info, your prefs, all those goodies. You can also include info about what would make your character really happy or if there's a particular role you'd like to play (maybe the one doing the cheering up?).
Reply to others.
Be presh.

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"Yeah but you know the old man can still get frisky and I don't even want to think about it." Eskel snorts. "Also he probably won't leave us alone because he's worried you, me and Geralt'll get drunk and burn the place down once and for all."

The brush of Lambert's lips against his hand makes his breath go funny, an unsettled sound of long-ignored, unacknowledged want.

"We do go a little overboard," he agrees, letting his lips continue to ghost over the older man's fingers. He hadn't expected to get a reaction. "Maybe a lot overboard."

"Yeah, well..." Eskel shrugs, burying his face in Lambert's hair. His fingers flex, a restless shiver passing through the older man. "What the fuck else are we going to do all winter?" He shuffles, fitting his body more snugly to Lambert's. It's been so long since he'd held his fellow wolf, since he held or had been held or been touched by anyone in so long he had lost count of the days, the weeks, the months...

A smart-ass retort had been on the tip of his tongue, but when Eskel presses closer, his mind goes blank. A tiny little noise escapes his throat. If it were anyone else wrapped around him, Lambert would be embarrassed about it. He rolls his hips back in an attempt to entice, pressing a kiss to the other witcher's palm.

"Lamb..." Eskel says, quietly and there's a rare note of uncertainty in the cocksure Witcher's voice. "It's been a long time. Are you certain?" He buries his face in Lambert's neck, inhaling shakily.

"Yeah. You're not gonna break me," he says. It had been a long time, and he's nervous, but Lambert keeps his voice steady. The younger Witcher can tell he isn't the only one that needs this. "Just don't rush it."

"Alright." Eskel says, and for once there's a lingering note of uncertainty in his voice. He lifts his head, listening, but he's sure the old man's gone to bed by now. And like Lambert said, what the hell was Vesemir going to do about it, precisely. "I haven't been with a guy in a really long time." He admits. "Haven't been with anybody in a long time-- the face even puts whores off-- but I'll be careful. Promise." He kisses Lambert just below the ear, his rough hands crawling up under the other witcher's shirt. Closing his eyes and just feeling over the warmth of Lambert's body in the dark. Just like when they were younger men, huddled together, wondering what was wrong with them that they needed the comfort of another person to survive. But lone wolves are dead wolves, the saying went and Eskel knew the bonds between the younger three surviving wolves had a desperate edge to it-- clinging to each other as the only world they had ever known crumbled beneath their feet-- and nothing could ever break it. No matter how old they got, they would always have each other, the same they had when they were all barely men, violently changed from the boys they had once been.

He breathes in deep against Lambert's neck and tries to focus, his hips shifting restlessly against Lambert's. What a witcher lacked in emotional depth, he could make up for on passion and instinct and Eskel's body remembered how hungry it could be for touch as surely as it would remember to be hungry for food, even after his inhuman abilities had allowed him to forget it for far longer than a man could have done.

"I know, guys aren't really your thing. And you're not gonna put me off." He doesn't say that he trusts Eskel, but he thinks the older witcher knows. He doesn't need words to say it. As sword-calloused hands wander over the planes of his abdomen and chest, he relaxes and bares his neck. It's easy to submit the way he had decades ago, to press back and meet every little shift of hips. His hand lifts and reaches back to tangle in the soft hair at the back of Eskel's head, keeping him close.

He isn't the same desperately eager boy he'd been. A needy little whine spills out all the same, because he knows he's safe here, that he can let his guard down and trust that his brother won't let him come to harm. He knows that as long as he has Eskel and Geralt, he'll have a home. Hell, even Vesemir, for all that they argue and fight.

But right now, his world is reduced to the bed hardly big enough for two grown witchers, and his focus is on the way Eskel surrounds him.

Eskel kisses over Lambert's offered neck and shoulder. His hand finds new scars on the other Wolf's body, traces and memorizes them. His other hand finds the drawstring at the waist of Lambert's small-clothes. Restlessly caressing hip and thigh.

His teeth scrape-- lightly-- over Lambert's shoulder and he makes a low sound deep in his chest, a sound of mixed protectiveness and slowly mounting arousal.

Between the scrape of teeth at his shoulder and that low noise that he feels more than he hears, his clothes are starting to feel like too much. The last thing he wants is for Eskel to stop touching him, though. Gently, he tugs at the dark strands in his hand.

"Esk, wait--stop."

He half-assumes there's been a change of plans and rolls back from Lambert, emphatically with his hands not touching the other witcher until he's told it's alright to do otherwise. His own smalls feel a little tight but he leaves them for now.

"Yeah? You okay?"

"Yeah, fine, I just..." Now that he can do so, he sits up and quickly strips his shirt off, tossing it to the floor. His smalls follow after a bit of an awkward maneuver. "Better," he whispers with a resolute nod. "Put your hands back on me."

"Oh good." He laughs, rolling Lambert back into his arms, back to chest. "Scared me for a minute." He buries his face back in Lambert's shoulder. "You can say no whenever you like." He promises, gravely. "But I really hope that you don't. Not tonight." He draws a hand down Lambert's chest, skimming over the muscles of his stomach to his hip.

"Tell me how you want me to sort you out." He asks, his coarse voice even rougher for being pitched low against Lambert's ear.

Lambert laughs with him, his fingers going right back to tangle in Eskel's hair. "I'd never say no to you." A soft sigh slips past his lips. "Just like this. Close."

"Okay." Eskel says, from somewhere just behind Lambert's ear as one hand slips between Lambert's thighs to tease and stroke his cock. Anything to stay close, to get as much touch as he can.

He nips at Lambert's shoulder again but it seems a bridge too far to bite him. He wants to be careful with Lambert, like he was when they were younger men. And he's not wholly sure what's got the younger wolf in such dire need of comfort to turn to something that-- while not expressly forbidden-- might be considered beneath his dignity. And until he figures out what that is, he's not going to push anything too much. Just slow, lazy strokes for the moment. Every sense tuned to Lambert's.

Not that he wasn't enjoying himself, as Lambert can no doubt plainly feel on the back of his thighs.

Much like when they were younger, Lambert is more than willing to let Eskel take the lead. He props his top leg up, giving the other room to do as he pleases and showing that he'll obey. A rare thing for the young wolf. He can certainly feel that the older witcher is enjoying it. So he lets go of Eskel's hair and reaches back to tug at his smallclothes, at his hip, trying to get him to move.

What he needs is to have someone else in control, because he doesn't feel like he can trust himself right now. And maybe he is still a little shaken from their bar fight, because he doesn't want to lose anyone else, least of all Eskel.

Maybe he'll admit to that after.

For now, it's enough to just let the older wolf take care of him and work up him up slowly.

The acquiescence answers many of his questions and Eskel holds the other Wolf tightly as he continues stroking his cock.

"It's alright, Lamb, I've got you." He promises. "It's alright." He kisses the witcher's shoulder. "Roll over for me, on your belly."

"I know."

Cheeks burning, he does as he's told, closing his eyes and burying his nose in the pillow to breathe in the other's scent. And then he thinks to ask, "You got oil, right?" Because Lambert had given no thought into creeping through the hall to Eskel's door, only following the impulse to go.

"Yeah, I've got something." Eskel promises, running his hand down Lambert's back. It's not, unfortunately, too different from the way he would soothe a nervous animal. He kisses between Lambert's shoulderblades and the shuffles over under the blankets (trying to disturb them as little as possible in the cold room; the wind has come up and there's definitely a draft Eskel didn't remember from last year) to rummage around on a low shelf next to the bed. The oil he brings back smells like leather, so thick and smooth it's almost grease and he offers it to Lambert.

"Will that do?" He asks. It's the stuff they use on their boots and the horses' tack.

Lambert pushes himself up enough to watch. The blankets have slipped from his shoulders, and he can feel the chill in the room, so he makes a mental note to help Eskel fix that later. For tonight, body heat will work.

When he's presented with the oil, he nods and meets Eskel's eyes for the first time since he'd come slinking in. "I can bring something better next time. If you want." If he isn't turned away and told this was a one-time thing. "'S good for soothing sore muscles, too, so when the old man sets us to work, I can fix you right up," he adds with a little grin.

He won't promise Lambert a next time, but he won't deny him a next time either. He's completely focused only on this moment.

"Oh, somebody's developing fancy tastes out there in the wide world?" Eskel teases, slicking up his fingers and reaching to stroke Lambert's cock once more, leaning over to kiss and bite across the other witcher's shoulders.

Lambert goes to sneer at being teased, but the feeling of a rough hand around his cock smooths his features right back out, and his voice maybe comes out not so biting. "Yeah, and why shouldn't I? W-what's wrong with nice things?" Other than the price he often had to pay for them. His head drops back to the pillow, hips lifting and knees shifting a little wider.

"Shhhhh." Eskel says, ruffling the younger man's hair, pressing him into the pillows momentarily. "It's alright." His slick fingers work over the younger witcher's cock as he leans in close to whisper in Lambert's ear. "Do you want me to get you off just like this or do you want more?" His fingers tease up the back of Lambert's thigh, to the curve of his backside. An unspoken question.

The ghosting of breath over his ear and the fingers teasing up his thigh make Lambert shiver, and it takes him a moment to register that Eskel's asking him something. It's just a tiny bit difficult to get the words out. But he knows this won't be enough to shut his mind off for a while, so he does his best.

"More. Need more."

"Good." Sufficiently assured as to his fellow Wolf's needs, Eskel applies another layer of grease to his fingers, experientially pressing one into Lambert while rubbing his back soothingly. "You just relax, Lamb, I've got you."

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